


'This is called a relationship.'

by Lisbeth_Holmes



Series: Sherbet- The Story of Mrs Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Mycroft IS the British Government, Paternal Lestrade, References to Johnlock, References to Moriarty, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Sherlock's Girlfriend, Sherlock's wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisbeth_Holmes/pseuds/Lisbeth_Holmes
Summary: ‘Blonde girl, would you like to join me in a murder?’‘You mean solving a murder, don’t you?’‘This is the disadvantage if you’re with a sociopath, you never know.'‘You’ll be the next victim if you keep doing this with me, giving equivocal signs.’Will Lisbeth prove to be the new companion of the one and only Sherlock Holmes? What has a tuxedo got to do with the most notorious motor gang? What is Lestrade's division? Are we on a date? Compliment or compliant? The girl and the detective face new challenges and attempt to find the answer to these questions, while trying not to get themselves killed.





	1. Chapter 1

The house was almost quiet. The sound of an old clock ticking steadily mixed with two soft snores, one coming from the living room, the other from upstairs. It almost happened to be a peaceful night, but if we’re talking about the Holmes’ nothing is so simple.

Lisbeth thought a quiescent night laid ahead of her. Moving in didn’t take longer than one day, since she brought no furniture (which was fortunate since she didn’t own any), just clothes enough for an army, and all the books from the century. They were heavy, and there always seemed to be a new box waiting outside to be brought in, but Lisbeth couldn’t live without them. And maybe if Sherlock had given a hand, moving in would have been much quicker, but of course he had something more important to do which mainly included lying on the couch. Needless to say, Lisbeth let a few books fall just to remind him of the blonde girl fighting a lost battle against the endless army of books. She tiredly collapsed on her bed, in her new room. Although it was a done deal, she had talked to Mrs Hudson.  
‘So, are you moving in, darling?’ asked the old lady while she was pouring tea.  
‘Yes. I like the neighbourhood and the flat is lovely,’ replied the girl smiling friendly.  
‘Are you going to need John’s old bedroom upstairs?’  
‘Yes. Now, then… we’ll see it.’  
As the girl smiled self-confidently, Mrs Hudson giggled.  
‘Since when have you known Sherlock?’  
‘Since yesterday,’ replied Lisbeth taking leisurely a nip from tea.  
The old lady choked on the hot beverage.  
‘We solved a murder together, my landlord’s. Well, I was short on money anyway so moving out was inevitable. I needed a new flat, Sherlock needed a new flatmate, lucky coincidence,’ Or more likely, perfect planning-she added in her head.  
The landlady was at a loss for words:  
‘You’re a very special girl I feel. Maybe you could tame Sherlock a little bit.’  
‘I don’t want to; I like him in his own way.‘  
‘Or you could at least ask him to stop putting human body parts in the fridge.’  
‘But where else should he put them?’ asked Lisbeth eyes wide open, filled with genuine surprise.  
‘Birds of a feather flock together,’ Mrs Hudson shook her head playfully.  
‘But I don’t like living in a morgue, so I’ll do my best.’  
Thus Lisbeth moved barely in and engrossed the bedroom upstairs. Even though she had redecorated, put new curtains on and scattered all her stuff especially shoes, clothes and books, the whole room reminded her of John and Sherlock felt the same way. As he stood in the doorway and scanned what Lisbeth called ‘organised mess’ she could see vacancy and loneliness in his eyes. It broke her heart every time. But it was the beginning of a new area.

Suddenly Lisbeth’s eyes sprung up. Leaping off the bed she hurried downstairs to the living room, where she found a stranger and Sherlock fighting, wrestling on the floor. The whole room looked as a bomb had exploded.  
‘Sherlock, it’s three o’clock in the morning!’ Lisbeth complained zipping her cardigan. Having by-passed them she set up the coffee table.  
‘Lisbeth!’ Sherlock groaned while he was preoccupied with trying to prevent the stranger from throttling him. As sighing she snatched a chair and flanged it at the man like it was a totally normal thing. The stranger blacked out.  
‘Couldn’t you have done that sooner?’ growled the detective during coughing.  
‘You’re welcome,’ smiled the girl and set off to bed.  
‘Hey!’ Sherlock laid her by the heels still breathing heavily.  
‘What?’ she put her hands on her hips. ‘I had knocked him off, this was the harder part of the job, you call the police and tidy up this mess,’ Sherlock was taken aback for a moment than replied:  
‘I just wanted to say that we’ll need a new chair.’  
‘Well, I’m sorry. I think he is in need of an ambulance. Call the police, please. It would require much more paperwork to uncle if he died.’  
Sherlock nodded dutifully and the girl went back to sleep. So this was the first night at the Holmes’. In a normal family nobody would attack Sherlock in the middle of the night, the girl wouldn’t be angry because she was woken up (and not because a stranger tried to kill the detective), and she wouldn’t knock off the attacker so easily without at least having a panic attack before. Sherlock would ask the new flatmate if she was okay, and if she found it weird that he was impugned. Finally, they would argue about anything, but not specifically about the paperwork and the chair. In short, in a normal family this whole affair wouldn’t happen. But the Holmes’ weren’t a normal family. They were the Holmes’.

In the morning Lisbeth walked down sleepily still wearing her pyjamas and her favourite TARDIS patched cardigan. Tiptoeing to the kitchen she prepared a big cup of coffee to herself. Although she was British and drank tea at five o’clock, she was a huge coffee enthusiast. A day without coffee was wasted, not to mention unmanageable. She was within the ace of flinging down directly on Sherlock as he was lying on the coach. She, however, avoided the accident and didn’t even spill her drink. This situation reminded her to the one when they first met, of course without almost falling. Sherlock looked like he was praying, but she suspected that it was about something else. The detective concentrated, she could almost hear the cogs stirring, most definitely he was thinking. He sensed that the girl was there examining him. Lisbeth sat down quietly and watched him while sipping coffee. He looked so peaceful lying on the coach in the middle of muddle. Because of course, he hadn’t tidied the mess up. Lisbeth never expected that he would. And Sherlock knew that the girl was aware of this fact. This was one of their silent agreements.  
‘You know, I’m not that type who must tidy up if she sees a mess,’ Lisbeth broke the silence.  
‘No. You’re that kind who sees a fight in the middle of the night in her flat, acts like it’s a perfectly normal thing, and when she’s fed up with it knocks out the attacker and goes back to sleep like nothing happened,’ murmured the detective while his magnificent ice blue eyes were still closed.  
‘I can’t decide whether it was a compliment or a complaint,’ taxed the girl her brain.  
‘It was a compliment,’ the ice blue eyes opened and landed on her.  
‘Good answer, ‘she winked her eye at him. After a moment of silence she inquired. ‘What are you doing?’  
‘I’m in my mind palace. I was, before you interrupted,’ he added grumpily.  
‘And what’s that?’  
‘It’s a technique. I never forget anything because I archive everything significant in it.’  
‘And what’s significant for you? I guess, not birthdays. Mine is on the seventh of January by the way.’  
‘Everything that could be useful in my carrier,‘ he ignored her comment, ‘common knowledge that is being taught in the schools is insignificant and irrelevant.’  
‘So everything that I know. You’ve deleted all that knowledge.’  
‘Literally.’  
‘Then what is it like in your ingenious, specimen brain?’ the girl pressed close to Sherlock. As they eyed Lisbeth lost for a second in the detective’s special eyes. She couldn’t tell their colour. It was the colour of the ocean after a storm. Stop, Lisbeth!- she warned herself. It was a weird moment as the air sparkled between them.  
‘For instance London’s map,’ Sherlock cleared his throat and the moment went away. The girl blinked in confusion, but she didn’t question the detective.  
‘Why a palace though?’ She asked finally. Sherlock was caught by surprise, of course just a little bit.  
‘Why isn’t a library? It would be more sensible. A palace is so… scenical.’  
‘What’s your problem with my palace?’ Sherlock burst out petulantly.  
‘Nothing, I was just saying-’  
‘Client!’ Mrs Hudson’s voice twinkled from downstairs.  
‘I’m in my pyjamas’ sprang up the girl.  
‘What’s wrong with that? I was in a blanket in Buckingham Palace,’ added the detective to the wall because the girl was already upstairs.  
‘It’s always about palaces!’

5 minutes later when the client was just about to sit down Lisbeth came back. She wasn’t wearing make-up, but otherwise she looked perfect. Her hair, her outfit, everything. Sherlock puckered his brows.  
‘Don’t worry. You’re maybe the cleverest person in the world, but you’ll never understand women,’ enlightened him the girl.  
‘Maybe?’ frowned Sherlock one of his eyebrows, in response Lisbeth put out her tongue playfully. She was curious which part of her sentence would the detective pick at. He didn’t disappoint her.  
‘Now that you’re here, we can start it,’ Sherlock clapped his hands keenly. Normally he wouldn’t be excited about a simple client, but now he had an eager pupil so he could show off.  
‘This is Mr Brown; he wants to know whether his wife is cheating on him. I’ll explain everything if you’re capable of comprehending and learning it, the next will be yours,’ Sherlock spoke directly to the girl ignoring the confused client. At the very moment when Lisbeth nodded the detective started.  
‘38, official, married at least for 10 year, two kids, one small dog. Stressful life, middle-class, smoker, his wife definitely is cheating on him. He’s wearing suit that suggests some kind of office work, furthermore desk job because you can notice the pale line on his forearm.’  
‘The edge of the table,’ remarked the girl.  
‘Yes. In the packet of his suit there’s a pen, it’s from his office. He smokes. He has a family which has to be maintained, it means a lot of work and of course his life is stressful. He works long hours and doesn’t sleep enough. Circles round his eyes, the coffee spot on his tie. Given these facts it’s obvious that he’s a smoker. Though the nicotine patch under his shirt is the main evidence.’  
‘And what about the lighter in his pocket?’ asked the girl keenly.  
‘Yes, I was just about to mention it. Then, the ring. It’s not new, little scratches on it.’  
‘Desk job. He notes a lot his ring grazes when writes. Left handed.’  
‘Apparently. Phone in the right pocket of his jacket, left handed. The fur on his trousers is from his dog, but it ranges just the middle of his calf which means that the dog can’t be taller than that. Wife, small dog, stressful life to earn enough money, obvious they’ve got children. His wife is at home with them; well, when she’s not at the neighbour. She has a lot of free time and tired husband. What does an attractive woman do in this situation? Over-simple. I wouldn’t waste time with it if you weren’t here.’  
Lisbeth kept quiet while she was examining the poor client. He looked like he’s regretted coming there. The girl felt sorry for this fellow, but Sherlock was waiting for the compliment.  
‘Ok. I came to that conclusion, too. Obviously, not as brilliantly as you did.’  
‘That’s it?‘ expanded his hands the client. ‘No questions, no wonderment, no refutation, no accusation that he’s just made it up? Are you guys doing this daily?’  
‘He justified everything logically, so there’s nothing to wonder.’  
‘Lisbeth, how do you see it?’ Sherlock ignored the man.  
‘Well, I have to admit that I hadn’t noticed all the data, but! He’s been just sitting there patiently while you were telling everything about him like he wasn’t there. If I were him, I would’ve knocked you out after 30 seconds,’ The client smiled and coincidently nodded. ‘Considering this, the wedding ring, the job, he has kids. And his outfit. Look at him. Brownish suit, black shoes, blue shirt, and that hideous tie. I’m sorry, but if your wife would’ve seen it, she would never ever let you step out of your house. For that reason she’s been away. And here come the aforementioned consequences. In other words, I’m regret to inform you, but all these facts suggest that she’s cheating on you.’  
‘Seriously, his outfit?’ grizzled Sherlock. ‘I examined everything and… his outfit?’  
‘Well, thank you for your… help,’ stood the client up confusingly. He shook his head and he couldn’t decide whether he should be angry or happy. As a consolation prize he met two people who were crazier than him. Furthermore they lived together. It’s time to start a new life. The girl saw that he’ll be okay so she smiled at her. Sherlock didn’t look at him, he just seethed alone.  
‘It was a pleasure meeting the Holmes,’ said goodbye the client and left. Lisbeth giggled.  
‘She’s not my wife!’ yelled the detective, but it was too late.  
‘You know, he could’ve believed that I was your sister’ smiled the girl from ear to ear folding her arm.  
‘Nonsense. We don’t even look alike,’ replied at once the detective.  
‘Yeah, keep saying that,’ sat down the girl contentedly.

And they went on doing this during the whole week. Clients came with their problem, they listened to their description (who more calmly, who more furiously), but after all the Holmes’ solved all their cases so they had no reason to complain. Or Sherlock believed that. Lisbeth was having a whale of a time watching people, examining them and their reaction. Sherlock satisfied her thirst for knowledge and after the showing off, he asked her opinion. They were a good team. Lisbeth continued saying that whereas Sherlock knew that. Eventually the mess was cleaned up by Mrs Hudson and the girl. John looked in a few times, stopped the clients before they could punch the detective in the face. Sometimes he felt like a dad with two handful children. Lisbeth was basically reasonable, but definitely not when she was with Sherlock. When John moved out he feared leaving his friend alone. At first he thought that she could control Sherlock. Then he realised that she didn’t intend to do it. They prone to be dangerous, but on the other hand they had a sweet side when the acted like an old, married couple. It was funny to watch them. Sometimes the soldier was concerned about the welfare of the word, sometimes he just giggled and shook his head. The girl was the moral compass of the detective, or on the contrary, she was also the magnet next to the compass.  
Lisbeth liked John a lot. She saw the perfect partner in him for Sherlock. She comprehended why they made such a good team. She wouldn’t tell, but she envied him, just a bit. Their friendships was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

‘Sherlock!!!’ yelled the girl in a flurry. She was sitting in the kitchen reading (this time on her own) laptop. ‘I’m on John’s blog!’  
‘What?’ asked the detective doubtfully and with two leaps he was behind the girl’s back. He leaned against the table leaving just a few inches between him and her. Sherlock didn’t intend to embarrass her, but Lisbeth’s heart started to beat rapidly. She could smell the detective’s scent and feel his breath on her head. She slowly took a deep breath in order to behave properly (not like an idiot teenage girl). She couldn’t decide whether it meant nothing for him, or he was just so curious that he didn’t pay attention to play the emotionless sociopath so his gestures revealed him. She didn’t manage to figure it out, though.  
‘Sherlock quickly found, too quickly if I am being self-respecting, a new companion to himself, though I don’t blame him, as the new side-kick is taller and much prettier than me, but still blonde. And it might be important to mention at this point, just to avoid confusion later on, is a young woman. So far she lives up to my legacy of keeping Sherlock alive, although sometimes I can’t decide which of them is more thrilled when it comes to solving a crime. I’ll certainly keep you updated on the adventures of the blonde girl and the detective,’ quoted Lisbeth John’s blog. ‘Uncle will kill both of us if he reads it. Not to mention my father. And Mycroft.’  
‘Have you spoken with my brother? That’s getting worse. Next time when I go to the shop, the assistant will have been already checked.’  
‘Firstly, you never go to the shop. Secondly, it’s not just about you,’ turned around the girl facing Sherlock. The distance between them was just one inch. Sherlock shrank his eyes.  
‘What did he want? Have you met him before?’ asked the detective finally. Lisbeth didn’t feel that it was the right time to enlighten Sherlock about his father. She had a plan B.  
‘Nothing. We just both know that you like the blonde ones,’ smiled proudly the girl, implying the fact that John was straw-haired too. As they eyed Lisbeth’s stomach turned a somersault. Surprisingly the detective didn’t disprove the statement just examined her. He was just about to reply when Mrs Hudson cut in.  
‘Greg is waiting outside!’ as she yelled, Sherlock turned around and Lisbeth quietly let the air rush from her lungs. The moment went away again. Mrs Hudson had a great sense to choose the most unsuitable time to throw in. Or it was in the nick of time.  
‘Brilliant, a murder!’ cheered Sherlock ‘Lisbeth, what are you waiting for?’  
The girl shook her head, cleared her throat and stood up. She was still a bit confused, but there was no time for that. Sherlock literally put her coat on her, not in a romantic way, in the “murder-come-on-finally-something-interesting-hurry-up” way. But then he gallantly offered his arm.  
‘Blonde girl, would you like to join me in a murder?’  
‘You mean solving a murder, don’t you?’  
‘This is the disadvantage if you’re with a sociopath, you never know,’ winked at her the detective. Lisbeth of course was in on the racket.  
‘You’ll be the next victim if you keep doing this with me, giving equivocal signs,’ she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Uncle,’ Lisbeth said hello and hugged the silver-haired inspector. Sherlock observed the scene from a step away, giving no sign of wanting to say hello, offer to shake hands, or whatever friends do when they meet each other.  
‘Hullo darling. Sherlock,’ the detective nodded. ‘How are you? I heard you have already moved in. Isn’t it a bit quick?’  
‘You know exactly what happened to my landlord, I needed a new flat instantly.’  
‘Yeah, and there was no room to let in the heart of London,’ murmured the inspector still not being very fond of the idea of her niece living with Sherlock. The girl ignored the frown gathering on his forehead and just smiled.  
‘I’d show you the flat, but you know your way around,’she pulled her uncle’s leg who in response casted a miserable glance at her saying ‘all too well’.  
‘That’s enough,’the detective interrupted them giving utterance to his discontent, ’you can chat later. Lestrade, tell me more about the biker gang case.’  
‘So it is not a murder after all,’ Lisbeth stated, changing to work mood.  
‘Of course. He doesn’t look as grim as it was a murder,’ Sherlock explained quickly. ‘I need data.’  
‘Right, because everyone should be happy if it’s a murder,’ the girl remarked under her breath.  
‘As you probably know, the infamous biker gang, Red Vipers ,are in town,’ Lestrade begun to explain. ’We’ve been following their leader for months and our undercover man reported that he would be here for three days. Assault, drug dealing, money laundering, we have enough evidence to put him in prison for a life-‘  
‘But you can’t find him. I have 72 hours to look him up. Child’s play. It’s a miracle your people even acquired these information.’  
Lestrade gave a sigh trying to remind himself that he needed Sherlock’s help, and on the contrary to everyone’s advice at the yard, he didn’t want to punch him.  
‘Our undercover man informed us that the boss’ right hand, Tyler Stone drinks usually at Tony’s so you can find him there. If you follow him, he’ll lead you to the man we’re looking for. But you have to get a DNA sample from him. If you have that-  
‘You mean _when_ we have that,’ the tall man added getting fed up.  
‘Yeah, we can arrest him. As for the boss, just locate him and call us immediately. He’s extremely dangerous I don’t want Lisbeth near him. Nor you Sherlock, but I know I have no influence on you,’ the inspector looked Sherlock in the eye severely.  
‘Uncle, you needn’t worry it’s just a simply case.’ Lisbeth joined the conversation.  
‘I’ll not let anyone hurt her Grant,’ Sherlock cut them off because he had no time for their argument. The girl’s heart jumped, but she cloaked her emotions.  
‘You can go now. I need to start working,’ the detective dismissed Lestrade.  
‘Okay. Just be careful.’  
‘Yeah, as always,’ murmured the raven-haired as he was dialling a number.  
‘Angelo, I need a table at 7 for two. No, I am not bringing John, but a girl. No, I don’t care about candles, just make sure that Tony’s will be closed,’he commanded the man on the other end of the phone.  
‘Is Tony’s near Angelo’s?’ asked the girl her uncle.  
‘Yeah, just around the corner.’  
‘So Sherlock wants our suspect to be at Angelo’s instead of Tony’s. Oh, I know why it sounds familiar. Their first date was there with John!’ Lisbeth put the pieces together.  
‘You mean case, don’t you?’ Lestrade inquired, hoping he misheard the word.  
‘Yeah, whatever,’ Lisbeth dropped the subject looking at Sherlock curiously, waiting for the new adventure.  
‘We have a table at Angelo’s at 7. Dress fancy. You have to charm Tyler,‘the detective instructed his partner.  
‘Are you taking me on a date?’ her eyes kindled and she has completely forgotten his uncle looking back and forth between them as watching a ping-pong match.  
‘Maybe, if you get his DNA sample and bug him,’Sherlock replied and Lisbeth couldn’t decide if he was joking.  
‘Consider it done,’the detective grinned as the girl folded her arms confidently and winked at him. The inspector shook his head and remembered the time when her niece was still 10 and the killing machines she was chasing were called Daleks, not criminals.

The girl was thrilled when she walked into Angelo’s, a lovely Italian restaurant in the heart of London. Although she was in her twenties, in that moment she felt like she was thrown back into the dreaded teenage dreams which brought for some parties and alcohol, but to her crimes and mysteries, along with some forbidden romance. Laughter mixed with the smell of pizza just out of the oven, city lights sparkling outside, candles shining dimly inside. The tall, willowy, straw-haired creature, graceful as never before, was impossible to overlook and attracted disapproving looks of the same sex but attention of the opposite. They followed the long, black waterfall with their eyes, wondering which table would the coal-black dress seat itself, measuring the competition. Meanwhile Lisbeth, unaware of the glances around her, was looking over the crowd, her heart beating with anticipation. As the navy blue eyes landed on the pale, grim figure of ennui, the curious admirers could tell they lost the battle even before it started. As smiling from ear to ear she sat down. As blue met with blue, both wearing black from top to bottom, neither of them said a world. Navy, waiting for to be complimented, being quite amused. Sky, waiting to be enlightened, being quite confused.  
‘You look… nice’ the silence was broken by a deep, confused voice. Sherlock could not help, but wink intensively. It didn’t sound like a compliment, it sounded as if he was talking about the weather, or rather a compliant. He was very distracted by the tight black dress emphasising her figure and her curves, showing her swan neck and delicate shoulders. Silver jewellery sparkled in her neck and on her fingers, which the detective immediately identified to be a family heirloom. Exceptionally she was wearing a peculiar pair of high heels, instead of wearing a pair of converse, comfortable for running around. This evening she didn’t intend to run anywhere.  
‘Thank you darling. Since it’s our first date-’ the girl begun, but he interrupted her.  
‘We’re not on a date. We’re working on a case,’ he stated, reminding her and himself.  
‘You’re wearing a tie. You never wear tie,’ Lisbeth remarked, smiling lovely to the waiter who has just appeared, whishing the expression on his face would be on Sherlock’s.  
‘Part of the play.’ he replied sulkily, taking no notice of the waiter.  
She was just about to reply when the suspect walked in with a rather annoyed look on his face.  
‘Your turn,’ he commanded the blonde one. As sighing she stood up and leaned closer to the detective. He frowned and couldn’t decide what confused him more, the 3 plus inches in the girl’s height or her unconventional behaviour.  
‘You would be lost without me,’she rolled her eyes. She was so close, he could catch her perfume.  
‘No. I would be free and relaxed,’he looked implying at the suspect, who, thanks to Lisbeth’s position, already took notice of her.  
‘Said all men ever,’she turned heels and set off to the bar. Sherlock couldn’t find the cheeky, clever and eager-to-learn, sneaker-lover girl in the sassy, confident, cold woman’s high-heeled shoes. He didn’t have to think twice which one he liked more.  
Lisbeth just had to distract the suspect while she bugged him and got a DNA sample, you know, just the usual stuff. It was not against her collar since she could be charming if she wanted to. Really, she could. She took advantage of her tall, willowy, slim figure, pale skin and bright, navy blue eyes. Tonight, she felt she could conquer the world.  
She slowly walked by the man looking at him flirty, flipping her hair. He stared at the girl unabashedly, eyeing her up and down, and she could see he was taking her clothes off in his head. The girl rolled her eyes also in her head. Nevertheless, she hated to admit but she found it appealing. He didn’t expect Sherlock to be astounded, but disapproving looks and annoyed grunts were certainly not what she was preparing for.  
‘Can I buy you a drink…?’ Tyler inquired the minute she sat down.  
‘Clara,’ Lisbeth replied saying the first name which came up to her mind ‘And yes. I’d like a drink with such a handsome man.’ Awful – she added in her head, but it felt like a thousand years since she has flirted with anyone. Except Sherlock of course, but that required much more brain, and much less makeup.  
‘Tyler,’ He smiled broadly and kissed her hand. She remembered how to blush, which was at his liking. He waved to the bartender.  
‘What can I give you?’ asked a young male voice, pondering what that hideous man had to offer for such a gorgeous girl.  
‘Same as he’s drinking,’the blonde replied without taking her eyes off Tyler. The bartender nodded without a world, sighing quietly. Tyler’s smile widened.  
‘I like women who has the stomach for scotch.’  
‘Well,’ she sipped from the drink. And congratulated herself for keeping a straight face. She hated scotch as it reminded her of his father, always having an expensive bottle of it on his desk. Besides, it tasted awful. ‘I have a stomach for lots of things.’  
Lisbeth would never say such words. The well-educated, sophisticated, determined and self-reliant Lisbeth wouldn’t even talk to a man like Tyler. But in that moment she was playing a role and she had to portray the character perfectly. As the drink filled her almost empty stomach she felt more and more confident.  
‘Want to show me some?’ he leaned closer stepping into her personal zone. She sipped again from the whiskey and raised an eyebrow.  
‘Maybe,’ the girl answered coquettishly. ‘But the guy over there,’ she looked at Sherlock, ‘is my husband’s sniff dog. Therefore I can’t leave with you right know. But if I say that I’m feeling ill, he’ll escort me home and we can meet by your car in thirty minutes. Which one is yours?’  
‘I’ve a motorcycle,’ he replied proudly. Naturally the girl deducted it from his outfit. Besides, of course, he was the suspect, known to be the member of the Red Vipers. Still she had to know which vehicle was his exactly. She couldn’t bug him, because he wasn’t carrying any bag, just wearing a leather jacket. Although the jacket could work, Lisbeth intended to give him her number. If he searched for the paper with her number, there would be a chance that he found the bug in his pockets. She wasn’t risking that. Plan and note all the possibilities and always be extremely careful-she learnt from Sherlock.  
‘Black chopper. Recently polished with red flames on it.’  
‘A bad guy with a motorcycle. Exactly my type, ’she put down her drink.  
‘And what about you, sweetheart? What’s under the angelic surface?’  
‘There is just one way to find out, isn’t there?’ The girl drew her forefinger slowly down his chest.  
That was the sign. Sherlock stood up and quickly marched towards them.  
‘Shit. Looks like our plan has just changed. I’ll give you my number, give me a ring when you have a free night, tiger’  
Having quickly written down a fake number on a napkin, Lisbeth leaned closer to him and slipped it into his pocket. She could smell alcohol on him. He was taking heavy breaths because of her closeness. She took the advantage of his distraction and switched their drinks. Of course she’d drunk exactly the same amount as the quantity which was missing from his glass, so he couldn’t tell their drinks apart. Almost definitely he wasn’t paying attention, but her motto was, always be precise.  
‘Mrs Crowfield, it’s time to go,’Sherlock arrived in that exact moment. Perfect timing. Coincidence? No, excellent team work.  
‘It was a pleasure,’ the girl winked at Tyler, left money at the bar and raised her glass ’I’ll have this.’  
Sherlock grabbed her arm and escorted the girl out.

‘You didn’t bug him, did you?’ he inquired when they were far away enough. The blonde walked by the car park and found Tyler’s vehicle.  
‘Nop. But I bugged his motorcycle,’ she smiled proudly as she put the little device on it.  
‘I’ll have this before you spill it,’ he took away the glass, noting with disapproval that the girl’s movement became rather uncoordinated.  
‘It was a piece of cake. He was so enchanted by me, he didn’t notice anything. I needn’t have to be so careful. Oh God, I’ve forgotten how charming I can be.’  
‘It’s time to go home Lisbeth. You’re drunk,’he rolled his magnificent eyes.  
‘No, I’m not Sherlock. I’m just thrilled.’  
He sighed and looked at her disdainfully. Lisbeth knew what was coming and folded her arms in defence.  
‘Your stomach is empty. You hadn’t eaten anything in the past four hours, because you were so nervous, although I have no idea why, we both know that you’re capable of this mission and even if something went wrong, I would fix it. You’d a glass of wine, you’d been chatting with one of your friends. No, you don’t consider her as a friend, but your father wants you to have a good relation with her. Why are you so influenced by him? You act like you don’t care, but he’s still got control over you,’Lisbeth started to loose her patience. She knuckled, her jaw strained. Sherlock knew nothing about her relationship with her father. Or he saw it clearly and that’s why she was so upset. ‘You drank whiskey, exactly as much as he’d drunk. It was clever, but unnecessary. He was so full of testosterone and alcohol that he wouldn’t notice. Additionally he’s an idiot, not like he would pay attention to such tiny detail. You dressed charmingly, set your hair carefully, put make up and even perfume on. But it’s not immense enough; it’s not that kind of perfume he likes. It is more natural. It would work on someone who likes simple scents, maybe on a chemist. You’d done everything to impress him, that’s why I don’t see why you were so anxious. On balance Lisbeth, yes, you’re drunk,’ he finished saying almost everything with one breath.  
Lisbeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.  
‘How can be someone so clever and observant still so stupid at the same time?’ she murmured to herself.  
‘Pardon?’ the detective raised his eyebrow.  
Put the pieces together, you idiot. I didn’t prepare for him, but for you -thought Lisbeth, but she didn’t say it out loud.  
‘C’mon. Let’s get a taxi and go home. It was a long day,’ proposed the detective, but the blonde one shook her head.  
‘You said that if I managed to bug him and get a DNA sample from him, you would take me to a date.’  
‘You just had your date,’ he smiled contentedly. For 5 seconds she want quiet. Lull that foreruns the storm, then the girl burst out:  
‘You bastard! You little shit! You utter-’ bellowed Lisbeth irately, but Sherlock put his hand over her mouth.  
‘Don’t swear Lisbeth! Don’t spoil the night! You’ve done a great job. I have just outwitted you.’  
It was the last straw for the girl so she kicked the detective. Sherlock’s face convulsed with pain which was a consolation for her. She chuckled as he growled. She had to try really hard not to fall in her shoes.  
As sighing like a tired father who got fed up with his rebellious teenage daughter, he put down the drink, stepped closer and picked up the girl. Although Lisbeth was tall, she was also slim, so the detective easily carried her on his shoulder. He lifted the drink and headed towards the road to catch a taxi.  
‘I hate you,’ murmured the girl, but frankly she enjoyed being carried and she was too tired to protest.  
‘Believe me, I like you more when you’re sober,’ he stated and put her down as they reached the high street. The girl folded her arms and looked at him petulantly. Sherlock watched the road, searching for a cab knowing that she was staring at him. Suddenly, the girl was hit upon an idea.  
‘I was right! I was right the whole time! It was a date after all!’ She jumped up and down blissfully, her shoes in her hand.  
‘What? Lisbeth, don’t be childish’ begun the detective, but he shut up. The girl helped him a lot, probably has just solved the case and even flirted with that moron man. Even so he wanted to reply he decided that she deserved a little victory. A bleak smile appeared on his face and an appealing scent hit him, her perfume. Why would she use that scent?


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbeth head was painfully aching when she woke up. Grumbling she turned in the bed and put a pillow on her head.  
‘Wake up, you’ve slept enough,’she heard the deep voice that would normally make her heart beat faster, but now it was extremely annoying.  
‘Leave me alone Sherlock! My head is about to explode,’grunted the blonde bird nest below the pillow.  
‘You have a hangover. This proves I was right yesterday,’he boasted as he drew the curtains. The girl felt the sudden brightness of sunlight and threw a pillow at him.  
‘Here, I made this for you, drink,’his voice sounded almost caring. Lisbeth looked up with one eye from the pillow.  
‘You made something… for me. Is that poison?’ she was deeply surprised since the detective was incapable of providing himself, not to mention taking care of another human being.  
‘No,’ he rolled his pale green eyes, ‘it is perfectly drinkable. It will make the hangover better. Drink it! We need to work.’  
Lisbeth eyed the detective, then drinked the green unknown mixture suspiciously. It did not look that bad, but after all who knew what was in it. Sherlock let out an impatient sigh.  
‘Thank you,’ she said finally. ‘Now leave. I need to make myself look like a human being.’  
‘You have 20 minutes. We’re going out. I found out where your friend, Tyler went. It’s a raunchy bar. I’ll need distraction, so dress like that.’  
‘Dress like what? Like a chic? Our next crime scene will be at beach, won’t it?’she joked, kicking of the blanket. Sherlock raised an eyebrow as seeing a T-shirt, two sizes bigger than her with a dalek on it and checked pants. It was a typical geeky ‘netflix and chill’ outfit, but honestly, she was not expecting any visitors. Besides, she was too preoccupied with her headache to be embarrassed by him.  
‘You can come in your pyjamas too, I don’t care. We need to get kicked out,’he replied, his glance returning to the girl’s face.  
‘What? If you want to get flanged out you just have to be yourself,’ she smiled mischievously as she raised the glass to her lips.  
‘Very funny. There’s a secret door in the alley where the backdoor leads. We will probably need to run too.’  
‘Are we going to break into the headquarters of the most notorious motor band?!’ Lisbeth choked on the drink, partly because of its taste, partly because of their weekend plans.  
‘Yes. 20 minutes.’  
‘Are you joking?’ she burst out, wiping her mouth with her hand, ‘We’re going to the nest of the Red Vipers. I need to dress appropriately. One hour and I’m ready.’  
‘Oh, women,’he examined the ceiling in disbelief.  
‘Shut up, you’re more delicate when it comes to clothes than me.’  
‘I’m the world’s only consulting detective. I have to be flawless I can’t be chasing around criminals in sweat pants, can I?  
‘Well, I’m you partner. You are the clever one, I’m the nice.’  
‘Nice? Nicish and I was kind.’  
‘Shut up. I need to catch a ganger, you can chose which suit you want to wear.’

The taxi picked up a tall, delicate girl who looked like she was going to a night club wearing fewer layers of clothes than the climate would imply, and a willowy, curly haired man who seemed as he was going to work in a suit. Well, a cabbie just delivers people, doesn’t ask.  
‘You look like a lawyer. People don’t dress like that in bars,’ the girl pointed out surveying Sherlock. It’s not that she didn’t like him in his favourite purple shirt. The buttons seemed to have a hard work. Lisbeth bit her lips and looked away.  
‘With you dressed like that nobody would bother looking at me.’  
‘Compliment or compliant?’  
‘Compliant. You look like an empty headed chic.’  
‘Nice as always. Good answer.’  
A ghost of smile flashed on Sherlock’s face.

The sparkling green neon lights advertising the bar were off, given the morning brightness. The building looked as it was just about to tumble down. There were almost no windows, the few of them were filthy, nearly impossible to look through. As Sherlock opened it, the door answered creakingly and the smell of alcohol, unwashed man and cigarette hit Lisbeth. She wrinkled her noise as they stepped in she could see men staring at her unabashedly. She came to a halt as bolt of fear and disgust hit her. If Uncle knew I’m a place like this dressed like this, he would kill Sherlock and never let me step out of the flat again, except wearing blankets.- she thought. The detective recognised the change in her, so he encouragingly wreathed his arms around Lisbeth whose heart started pumping the blood rapidly as she felt the man’s chest against her back. Sherlock found it funny that when it came to head-butting murderers with a knife she kept her cool, and a filthy bar put her off. Sitting down at the bar, they asked for two whiskeys. Sherlock didn’t even wait for the drinks, he left to find the back door and look for the chucker outs.  
‘Hey blondie, wanna have a good night with me?’ a forty something man, clearly drunk as a fiddler, turned to Lisbeth.  
‘It’s nearly noon you moron,’she rolled her eyes, turning to the other direction. Though taken aback, he didn’t give up.  
‘Time doesn’t matter. I live two blocks away,’ he put his hand on the girl’s thigh. Lisbeth slapped his hand away furiously and stood up to look for Sherlock.  
The man caught her arm, confining it, smiling. The girl cried out in pain. Clenching her fists, she was about to wipe that smug smile out of his face, when a low voice interrupted her.  
‘Leave before your nose breaks,’Sherlock just appeared in time, furiously grabbed the man by his shirt and stood in front of Lisbeth, covering her and blocking her view. Lisbeth could imagine the frustration in his eyes.  
‘Sherlock, you don’t want to have a fight, do you? I know we want to get kicked out, but I don’t want to see you wrestling with half of the bar,’she put her hand on his free arm trying to look in his eyes, but the they were fixed on the man, blue fury burning in them. The detective still was holding the man by his shirt, his face emotionless; the girl had to admit he looked real dangerous in that moment. She was almost too afraid to address him again, as she felt that Sherlock was on the verge of getting them into much more trouble she signed up for in the morning. Finally, he let go of the intruder who, after pondering for a moment, streaked off.  
‘Thank you,’she murmured, taking out a deep breath.  
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Let’s go,’he grabbed her arm, paying attention not to hurt her. Lisbeth had no time to realise that he has just apologised.  
‘I didn’t find the back door, so we need to get kicked out. I need to. Wait a little and follow me,’he instructed her, leading her to the middle of the room.  
‘Right, but how?’  
‘I’m going to kiss you,’out of nowhere Lisbeth heard the words she was dreaming of. Taken aback for a second, she looked up to the detective, confusion all over her face. She suspected that something was up to.  
‘Come again?‘ the girl wondered if the detective was out of his mind.  
‘I kiss you and then you slap me and say you don’t want to see me again. I won’t leave you alone, you yell in order to attract attention. They will throw me out.’  
“Well, that’s not exactly how I imagined our first kiss,’ complained the girl, but of course she seized the opportunity.  
Sherlock simply kissed her without flame. As his curly tresses titillated her cheeks, she overflowed with passion. She ran her fingers through the coal black hair and kissed him intensively. She’s been waiting for this since they met. Their lips danced swiftly, while Sherlock’s arms found their places on the girl’s silk skin. He lost in that kiss, just for a moment, but he did. All the doubt in the girl disappeared.  
‘Lisbeth,’gasping heavily, the detective stopped the kiss. ‘We’re working.’  
‘I don’t care,’ murmured the girl, eyes closed, being on the spur of the moment.  
‘Lestrade!’ Sherlock warned her. Lisbeth’s eyes sprung up and regarded the petulantly. He only called her Lestrade when she was annoying him.  
‘You bastard,’ slapped him the girl genuinely. ’At the whole time you acted like I meant nothing to you. Leave me alone I don’t want to see you again!’ She indeed enjoyed their little scene and taking a bit of revenge.  
‘But Clara, it was not my fault!’ he clutched his hand to her hips. Lisbeth couldn’t, help but enjoy the situation and smile faintly as she remember her pseudoname.  
‘No! Stop! Leave me alone! Help! Someone get this man away from me!’  
This got the chucker-out’s attention. He roughly grabbed Sherlock and took him away. Lisbeth’s eye met with the detective’s as she nodded. She quickly disappeared in the crowd before anyone could even think about entertaining her, while following her partner. She heard a loud thump as Sherlock landed on the filthy ground. She waited until the chucker-out went back then slipped off the door.  
Sherlock dusted his clothes and ruffled his hair as he regarded himself in the dusty windows. He looked extremely thrilled as he clapped his hands.  
‘Are you ready?’ he turned to the girl eyes glistening with excitement.  
‘I guess the fun part comes now.’ she remarked, being worried about the next step.  
‘Yeah, the game is now really on,’ he pulled out his gun. Lisbeth’s eyes widened as she scanned their surroundings.  
‘It’s the time when we should call uncle and do anything but don’t go there, is it not?’  
‘Exactly.’  
‘But we’re going in still.’  
‘Of course. C’mon. Did you bring your gun?’  
‘What gun?’ she burst out. Deducting and going to crimes scenes was one thing, but she was sure that laying an ambush for a crime organisation was not in the job description of a consulting detective; and above all it certainly was not in hers. ‘Where the hell should I get a gun?’  
‘Oh, John had one.’  
‘Well, I hoped that you noticed from the pair of shorts and the crop top I was wearing that I’m not John.’  
He rolled his eyes:  
‘Okay, just stay behind me. Let’s go.’he grabbed her arms, pulling her closer to the door, but she came to a halt.  
‘Sherlock, you can’t go in there we don’t know what is and who is behind that door. 2 men, 10, 20? You will get us both killed.’  
‘You’re right,’ he let go of her, and Lisbeth thought for a second that he yielded to reason. ‘You stay here waiting for the police, I go in.’  
‘No, Sherlock, wait!’ but it was too late because he had already disappeared.  
‘Shit,’ stated very sophisticatedly the girl, sent a text message to her uncle and she could only hope that the detective knew what he was doing.

 

As the floor cracked underneath their steps Lisbeth dreaded that either the aluminium stars would collapse or someone would notice them. The sun nearly couldn’t get through the filthy windows which gave them the cover of darkness. They followed the low voices in semidarkness, becoming clearer with every carefully taken step. Lisbeth could hear her heart pounding heavily, muscles stiff, body tense. Excitement and insecurity were battling in her. Taking down one man together was one thing. But walking into the lion’s nest willingly was something even she would call madness. She didn’t want to seem a coward or disappoint Sherlock, but a voice in her head was constantly lecturing her that she was risking her life. And unfortunately it was her uncle’s voice, to whom she’d promised to stay out of trouble. As the voices grew louder Lisbeth’s pulse started to reach an unhealthy scale.

‘Then it is done. We expect the next cargo to arrive tomorrow in the Port of London,’stated a deep voice assertively.  
‘I can assure you that this is clean stuff,’replied another, intimidated.  
‘It better be, if you don’t want to find yourself choked in your own blood,’a roar of laughter echoed through the building. Lisbeth gulped. A few more steps and they could see where the voices came from. As they hid in the shelter of the shadows they could see a frightful tall man standing in the centre, most probably the gang leader. He looked exactly like the baddie in a movie: long hair, scruffy beard, skin covered with a wide variety of tattoos, leather clothes, boots, and of course a gun in his pocket. There were other six gang members wearing similar outfits, all of them armed, either with gun, but in every case with knives. Lisbeth stomach cramped knowing if they were the fight, she and the detective would be dead within minutes. They were packing white packages into bags, clearly trading drugs.  
‘I have to do a bargain with the Snipers as well,’stated the man from whom they were buying the cargo.  
‘Do I look like a fucking Sniper to you?’snapped impatiently the baddie.  
‘I-I just meant to ask when they are coming,’ the man stepped back, raising his hands in surrender.  
‘I’m not your telephone. If Eddie said he would be here, then he would. A fortnight and they will be in town.’  
‘I’ll order some new package then.’  
Sherlock’s eyes kindled and Lisbeth new that he found his new target. Suddenly her sixth sense kicked in as she felt a strange feeling hit her as if someone was watching her. Unfortunately she was proven right when she heard a click. She would recognise that sound anywhere. That was the sound of a ruffle.  
‘It’s okay Lisbeth, we’re gonna be fine,’Sherlock whispered, but no matter how hard she wanted to believe him, she couldn’t.  
‘Boss, look what I have found.’ yelled the man standing in front of them, beam of satisfaction on his face. ‘This two sneaking around,’all the faces turned towards them, and Sherlock didn’t even bother taking out his gun, he was perfectly aware that they were outnumbered. Lisbeth froze to the ground, her mouth run dry and her stomach churned. The man snatched her, gun pointed at her temple; she was roughly dragged to the boss. From the corner of her eye, she saw that two gang members grabbed Sherlock and took away his gun. She realised that now they were completely vulnerable. The boss smiled broadly as he examined her thoroughly.  
‘Hmm, pretty, isn’t she? Maybe we can have some fun with her before we kill her,’the sound of laughter made her blood run cold, but she felt fury rising in her. Preparing to spat an insult, the detective cut her off:  
‘Or maybe you can have a little fun with me,’Sherlock‘s voice interrupted the laughter. Lisbeth’s eyes went wide as terrible silence fell on them.  
‘Are you a fucking fairy? Do you want some bullet in your knees? Let’s see how you like that.’As the boss aimed the gun at the detective, his partner gulped.  
‘Or,’he continued, his calmness undisturbed, his voice low and confident. ‘I could tell you why the Snipers are not going to turn up. You have played the fool with them, just like now you’re trying to outflank the Red Vipers,’he turned to the dealer suddenly.  
‘That’s not true!’ He protested too quickly, his voice full of sheer panic. The boss turned to him.  
‘Are you fucking with us?’ He grabbed the man by collar.  
In that moment loud shouting echoed through building as a unit of SWAP appeared out of nowhere. Sherlock reacted quickly, taking advantage of the momentary panic, grabbed the girl and run behind safe cover.  
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his hand on the blonde’s shoulder. He completely ignored the grunting, bodies being pushed to the ground and swearing. Fortunately no guns were fired, so they knew nobody got hurt. As they were kneeling in front of each other, only a few inches between them, Sherlock could hear the girl’s heart beating. His bright eyes filled with concerned locking into the navy blue confusion. Everything happened so fast Lisbeth couldn’t process. She went from having been sure that she would die today, to having been sure her uncle would kill both of them.  
‘Yeah, but let’s not do this again, okay?’ she let out a deep breath and chuckled faintly. Sherlock allowed himself a short grin before having a look around.  
‘If we stay here, the police is going to take us to the station to ask boring questions. I suggest leaving, now.’  
‘You are just afraid of uncle, are you not?’ a blonde head joined the curly one, peering at the police behind a wooden crate.  
‘Afraid? Never.’  
‘Well, I am, so let’s go,’a ghost of smile flashed upon Sherlock’s face as they took off, however the girl stopped suddenly.  
‘What?’ he raised an impatient eyebrow.  
‘I can’t go outside looking like this, wearing almost nothing.’Sherlock cast a dark glance at her.  
‘Did you really just survive the arrest one of the most infamous gangs and you are concerned about how you look?’  
‘You are not the one who’s wearing hot pants. I have an image to maintain.’  
‘Here,’ He put his (and her) favourite coat on her. Lisbeth could smell the detective sweet scent on it and smiled victoriously,’Let’s go.’  
As they almost slipped though the police, and only a door stood between them and freedom a voice stopped them:  
‘You two! Stop where you are or I swear to God, I arrest both of you!’  
‘Oh shit,’stated the girl and knew they were busted.

After a long and loud lecturing including ‘Were you out of your right mind?!’ I thought you were responsible!’ ‘What were you thinking?!’ ‘Have you any idea what could have happened if we hadn’t arrived in time?’ ‘My brother would skin me if I lost you!’ ‘Your father will send you away, you can be sure.’ ‘I am disappointed in you, young lady!’ ‘Lizzie, I’m so glad that you are safe and sound thank God!’ ‘Have you any idea what would I do without you? Because I don’t.’ ‘Keeping you alive is my division.’ ‘What the hell are you wearing?’ ‘I’m going to murder him’’ Lisbeth was sent to the ambulance to make sure she was perfectly okay and of course to give time for Greg to shout at Sherlock. She felt sorry for the detective who just stood there listening to her uncle’s reprimand. Occasionally he was saying something in defence, but he was patiently waiting for the grey haired man to stop. Inside he knew he deserved it. ‘I took care of her, Lestrade. I promised I would.’

‘You knew exactly that there were 7 men inside,’ stated Lisbeth calmly, blanket around her.  
‘Of course. 8 motorcycles were outside the club, two of which didn’t look like they belonged to the band. 6 band members, plus the man they were making a bargain,’ replied the detective still on the spur of the moment.  
‘And you were sure I would call uncle.’  
‘Obvious. You would never do anything without backup and unarmed.’  
‘He’s really furious this time. My father will hear about this.’Lisbeth smiled at her own reference.  
‘Well, he shouldn’t worry. We were not in direct danger.’  
‘Still you risked both of our lives hoping that maybe you could get information.’  
‘Which I got.’  
‘But what if you were wrong? What if there had been more men in there? What if the backup didn’t arrive in time?’  
‘The police station is 10 minutes away, and it’s in the patrol area, I knew they would arrive at the right moment,’Sherlock grunted as he was getting fed up with having to explain himself.  
‘Sherlock, you have to understand, when it comes to our life, it’s not a game.’  
‘Oh, shut up Lestrade. It is a game. It is the game. Did you not enjoy it? The adrenaline running through your veins? Just the two of us chasing criminals? he asked in excitement grabbing the blonde’s shoulders and shaking it.  
‘Yeah, I have to admit it’s kind of thrilling,’she couldn’t say anything else to that handsome face teaming with life.  
‘But-’ she started, but was interrupted.  
‘Here, buy us some coffee, you look like you need it. I’ll go home and find a new case,’he put 10 pounds in the girls hand and caught a cab. She was so taken aback that he would pay for something she couldn’t even protest.


	4. Chapter 4

As a just reward Lisbeth stood in the queue, her head in the clouds, her favourite coat on her. Fidgeting, as adrenaline still didn't run out of her, she was waiting for coffee: white chocolate mocha for her and a black coffee with two sugars for the detective. With a victorious smile on her face, her eyes glowing with happiness, drunk by the scent of the coat she ordered. Humming happily she paid for the coffee.  
'Names?' asked a tired barista who must have been on his last shift, not mirroring the customer's enthusiasm.  
'Lisbeth for the mocha and Sherlock for the other,' he raised an eyebrow.  
'Again, a fangirl? Everyone just seems to have a boyfriend named Sherlock,' Lisbeth was taken aback and at once returned to Earth. The barista started something in her mind and managed to transform her joy into fury.  
'Excuse me? It's not in your job description to choose my name. If I say Darth Vader you have to write that down without raising an eyebrow. Now, my partner SHERLOCK,' she emphasised the name clearly, 'whose coat I'm wearing is waiting for me so give me the damn coffee before I call the D.I. to shut this place down, because don't think for one second that I don't who's meeting place this is,' Besides the angelic look Lisbeth could be a complete brat. The barista's face fell and the pen stopped in his hands. The girl grabbed the coffees and left in a quick fury, the door closing behind her with a loud bang.

As she stepped distractedly out of the café she could probably never visit again, just like in a film she bumped into someone. Her coffee slipped out of her hand and the white crème spread across the street.  
'I'm terribly sorry miss, it's entirely my fault. Let me buy you another,' offered a deep voice, just as creamy as her coffee was and strong arms stopped her from tripping over. Lisbeth looked up and her eyes found an extremely handsome face. The man standing in front of her was a head taller than her, piercing light blue icy eyes in contrast with a thick mouth forming a friendly smile. His features were hard, masculine, with high cheekbones and scars on his face. His blonde hair was cut in a simple style. Lisbeth recognised at once that he used to be a soldier. He was now in his late 30s, probably retired. There was something odd, yet compelling about him. She shook her head to clear it and looked at the man's arms still holding her.  
'I'm sorry,' he let go of her as followed the girl's eyes smiling apologetically, not even raising an eyebrow because of her outfit. 'What kind of coffee was that, Beth?'  
The girl was taken back for a second then she realised that he her name was on the cup lying on the street.  
'It's Lisbeth.'  
'Hi there Lisbeth. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ian. Why don't we go in and I can buy you a drink?' He offered his hand and shook Lisbeth's firmly.  
'Thank you, but you don't have to buy another. I am the one to blame, I was running like a maniac.'  
'Yeah, I could see you were quite upset. Is everything okay? Do you need help?' His concerned eyes met with the girl's and she suddenly had a strange feeling that Gatsby himself was standing in front of her, with the endlessly reassuring smile on his face.  
'No, I'm fine, thank you. Just the barista took a rise out of me.'  
'Oh, if you want, I can punch him in the face for you,' he offered sounding almost serious, but his eyes revealed that he was flirting.  
'Thank you, but it won't be necessary,' she put her hair behind her ears subconsciously.  
'What did he do? Did he ask your number?'  
'No, he didn't. On the contrary, I think I frightened him.'  
'Don't get me wrong, but I can't imagine how can someone this beautiful be frightening?'  
'You should see me in the mornings before coffee.'  
'Well, I would like to. If you give me your number, I know a place where coffee is excellent and we can frighten baristas together.'  
'Oh,' Lisbeth was caught by surprise. She enjoyed flirting, but never imagined that the man would ask her out. Although he was extremely charming, still he was way too old for her. 'I have a…. I don't know. I'm very flattered and you are really charming, but I'm in a… relationship or …something like that,' she muttered, not knowing what to say to him, or to herself.  
'You don't seem so sure about him,' he raised an eyebrow, his smile widening.  
'Yeah, he's strange, but still…'Lisbeth bit her lips as she couldn't decide what was she feeling.  
'Well, if you ever need help intimidating baristas, or have trouble with your boyfriend, I give you my number and don't hesitate to call me,' He wrote down his number on a piece of paper and gave it to Lisbeth. Who was carrying paper and pen except lawyers nowadays?  
'Thank you. I… might as well do,' smiled the girl, the man with a wide smirk on his face gallantly bowed his head and disappeared in the café.

Lisbeth stepped quite disturbed into flat. She was convinced that she only had eyes for Sherlock, and she knew deep down that she was in love with her. And yet… meeting with Ian mad her realise that never had Sherlock made any move. She was tired of living in doubt. The navy blue coat on her shoulders suddenly was weighting down heavily upon her. Having put down the coffee on the table next to the tall figure lying on the couch she sulked into the armchair. Absent-mindedly she was blankly looking at the piece of paper given by Ian, wondering about the man, but especially about her relationship status. She decided that going mad would be the perfect expression.  
'What's that?' inquired a deep voice.  
'A phone number. I've bumped into a man and he gave it to me,' she answered bluntly.  
'I know.'  
'Wha-at? How?'  
'You've been fidgeting for 5 minutes, you are clearly upset. You brought me coffee, but not to yourself. You could have drunk it, but you usually buy a big mocha, although you drink too quickly, it lasts for approximately 5 minutes, but the café is 3 minutes away, drinking while walking makes the journey even longer, therefore you would still have coffee left. Obviously you could have lost your drink somewhere considering that you are clumsy enough, it could have been your fault, however I can smell a faint scent of cologne on you which means you ran into a man. If he's not an idiot, he would offer you to buy another coffee, which you would kindly, well depends on your mood, refuse, then he would ask your number and since you wouldn't give it to him, he would give his. Simple. I don't even need to open my eyes.  
'Are you jealous?' smiled the girl roguishly. Trying her best to sound as if she was joking, she was quite curious about the answer.  
'Why would I?' frowned the detective, opened his eyes and looked at her like the supposition was totally nonsense. 'We're not in a relationship.'  
Lisbeth felt her world fall apart.  
'Oh, that's not true,' she refuted him. She was still smiling, in spite of the fact that she was on the edge of a cliff from where she never dared to jump off. 'We live together, we solve crimes together, we make a good team, we annoy and criticise people together, we-  
'Well, that's what we did with John in nutshell,' she was interrupted by Sherlock. He was still lying, looking at the ceiling. Lisbeth felt fury rising in her as he didn't even bother to look at her.  
'Yes! But he's married know.'  
'Will you stop implying that we were a couple?' she managed to get his attention as the pale blue eyes landed on her reproachfully.  
'You were a couple that's obvious. And you have never denied that. That's why I don't get it. Why are you constantly refusing that there's something between us?' She pressed closer to him, the paper crumpling in her fist.  
'Friendship. Respect. Trust. Infatuation. Team work. Same purpose. Similar sociopath tendency. These are what we got.'  
'Exactly!' She extended her arms victoriously. 'These are the basics. Roughly. And there's much more. Our moments. As we look at each other secretly, and know what the other thinks. As we are close to each other the air is sparkling between us. We know the darkest side of the other, furthermore we can understand and accept it. As we bring out the good and well the bad side of each other. When you are at a loss for word due to me, and when I lose my cool because of you. When we know the truth but everybody around us is an idiot,' confessing her feelings, the girl can't help letting her tears out. There was an unmistakable beauty in her genuine tears. 'When we arguing like an old, married couple. When we kiss, and forgot everything around us just for that moment. This is, Sherlock, this is called a relationship.'  
All the time she was speaking Sherlock stared at her, stone cold, without emotion on his face. Lisbeth couldn't decide whether it was a defensive reaction to hide his feelings, or she did indeed mean nothing to him. The heavy coat of silence fell onto them. The girl was leaning against her knees, waiting for something to happen, for Sherlock to say something, for Mrs. Hudson to burst in, for the flat to collapse, anything. Finally, the detective frowned and winked confusingly. Lisbeth took a deep breath and tried it last:  
'I don't want you to be my boyfriend like the society expects. That's so stupid. I don't want a normal relationship. I don't expect you to hold my hand, to buy me roses, to pay me compliments, to show any feeling in public. I don't want to change you, I don't want you to do anything for me, or sacrifice something for me. I just want you to be yourself, and admit that I mean something to you. Please, Sherlock, just once, forget the deduction, the showing off, the emotionless mask you put on and say that I'm more than a friend,' glassy tears fell onto the ground glistening in the sunshine. She got fed up with being in doubt.  
Sherlock just laid there, scanning the ceiling. As he opened his mouth to say something, looking very lost Lisbeth's eyes kindled. But in the end no sound came out of his mouth.  
'That's it. I'm done,' pinned the girl down, stood up, took off the coat, turned tail and walked out of the room. The door stood wide open.

Sherlock slowly walked into his flat and found John sitting in his chair drinking tea. As he noticed his coffee, untouched, gone cold next to a plate of cookies he felt as he was punched in his stomach.  
'Hello. Mrs Hudson let me in. I heard you're currently working on a case. How's it going?' He inquired cheerfully. The tall man did not reply just put down his coat, picked up his violin and started to play. He stood by the window, stared out of it blankly while his face was emotionless, depressing music filling the room. John realised at once that something was wrong.  
'Sherlock, what happened?' He asked, but no reply came as the rhythm of the music became more aggressive.  
John put away the tea and cleared his throat. 'Where's Lisbeth?' He looked around. The fiddle-bow stopped in Sherlock's hand.  
'What happened to her?' John raised his voice as he started to loose his patience. He was standing now, eyeing the back of his friend.  
'She's gone,' stated Sherlock in a dry voice.  
'You mean she's dead?' John bellowed, taking a threatening step towards him.  
'She's alive John,' he turned abruptly around, 'don't be so overreacting. We had a fight and she decided that she no longer wanted to work with me,' Sherlock snapped.  
'What did you say to her?' furiously the doctor took a deep breath and tried not to punch his friend in the face.  
'John, do we really have to do this?' complained Sherlock irately, placing the violin back on his shoulders.  
'Yes, Sherlock, we have to,' John tightened his jaw. 'Because you must have done something really awful if she got fed up.'  
'I've done nothing, 'he extended his hands in surrender. 'And that was exactly her problem. She wanted me to confess that she is more than a friend.'  
'And why the bloody hell didn't you do it?!' yelled the doctor in disbelief.  
'Ah, John, calm down. Don't be so sentimental.'  
'For God's sakes, Sherlock! You're a bloody idiot,' he shook his head violently as the detective was staring at his questioningly.  
'Sherlock, listen to me! You are never gonna have an opportunity like this again! You've found a girl, who's able to put up with you. And believe me when I say that it is extremely difficult. Furthermore she's intelligent and tries to keep step with you. She learns psychology at the university and reads a lot in order to improve her observational skills. She tolerates all of your idiotic and insane things, respects you and stands by your side. She risks her life without hesitation if you tell her to do it. She's your perfect companion, not just in crime Sherlock, even in life. You will never meet another woman who would do all of this for you and even love you. She tries to do every time her best to impress you and she never expects a thank you or praise. In exchange for this she only wants you to show some emotion.'  
Sherlock blinked a few times and looked confusedly to the ground. He didn't know that Lisbeth made such efforts to be in step with him. He took it for granted that the girl interviewed clients with him and they solved cases together. She tended to be cheeky and sometimes complained, but eventually she always did what he asked.  
'She loves me?' was the only thing the detective questioned.  
John chuckled angrily in disbelief.  
'Of course she does! How could you be so blind not to notice it? She was flirting with you all the time.'  
John could hear the penny drop. Thus the detective finally understood. He was indeed blind. All the comments, all the reactions, she even blushed, her pupil expanded. He even remembered her perfume. She really thought that they were dating, that's why she was so anxious and worked-up.  
'And let me tell you something that you probably haven't realised. You, Sherlock Holmes, are in love with her, too. Maybe not in the way normal people fall in love, but you love her in your odd own way.'  
The detective opened his mouth to deny him, but then he went quiet, cogs mashing in his head. He thought about the strange, unknown feeling when they were close… and the kiss. Something happened during that kiss, Sherlock he never expected he would feel. Was that love?  
'I don't know John,' he even astonished himself admitting not being aware of something.  
'You're working on case, aren't you? And you've forgotten it because you were so cross with her. She made you furious. You are constantly arguing with people, but you pay no attention to them, it doesn't matter to you what they think. But you care about this girl. Lisbeth Lestrade managed to make herself important to you. To make herself worthy for your attention.'  
Sherlock was at a loss for words. John was right. How could he possibly forget about his case? Nothing could be more significant than a case, except…the girl.  
'Furthermore your body wants her too. I've seen you, you bastard. I've seen your moments when you were confused. Nevertheless, I know that you don't appreciate beauty, but this girl is gorgeous. In and out. Just try to look at her once as a woman. So lift your moron ass and go apologise!'  
'How? I have no idea how a relationship works.'  
'You should remember this; they are always right. No matter what. Just apologise and admit you were wrong. Wait, there's no bloody way you could do that. At least, try not to be a complete dick.'  
'I have a case to solve,' Sherlock turned to the door, but then stopped.  
'You have a life to live. And a girl to earn,' John passed on his coat to him and kicked him out of the flat.  
Sherlock waved to a cabbie, but before getting in he looked at John and frowned.  
'Thank you,' he murmured unsteadily.  
'Anytime. It was just about time to return to reason, you idiot, 'he embraced him. 'Don't come back without her.'  
The detective nodded awkwardly then sat in the cab.

Sherlock stepped in the café and felt a great relief as he immediately noticed the girl sitting next to the window. For a minute, he just stood helplessly, having no idea how he should approach her. Then he knuckled, took a deep breath and started off before he could chicken out. It was funny to watch the man who's always calm and self-confident, nervously wobbling, having not known what to do, or say. He just stopped in front of the girl watched her as she was staring of the window blankly. Her eyes were slightly red, from which Sherlock deducted she'd been crying. She took notice of the man in front of her, but she didn't move, didn't say a word, didn't show any sign of it. Lisbeth knew that he was waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to talk to her, otherwise he would stand there for eternity.  
'Did you solve the case?' inquired the girl breaking the silence, passing cars mirrored in her navy blue eyes.  
'Yes, I did,' replied the detective in a low voice and sat down slowly. He examined the girl as John told him and he had to admit that she was gorgeous. Even when she was disillusioned and exhausted. Under the surface she had an innocent and vulnerable side. And he hurt that side of her.  
'You know, I never had a relationship. Never, 'confessed the detective, clearing his throat. The girl didn't even bring John up which was a bad sign. 'Yes, I know what you're going to say, John,' She smiled bleakly. 'But I never had a… girlfriend. Admittedly, I rarely have friends. I've found a handful of people who are able to put up with me. More or less… And only one person came across who would understand and accept me. Until now.'  
Lisbeth lifted up her eyes and navy merged into pale blue. She could see that the detective wore his heart on his sleeve. At last he was speaking frankly. She turned towards him.  
'You know, I'm not the man of words,' she cleared her throat, 'if I have to talk about my feelings, I mean. Because it doesn't matter how hard I am trying, unfortunately I have feelings.'  
Sherlock stopped for a moment, quit examining the table and his eyes landed on her face. The girl gave up, because she realised that something big was going on.  
'I've never expected to be interesting for someone, I mean, I never thought that someone would want to be in a relationship with me. And you're right. It's hard to admit, but I got lost in that kiss. I've never felt like that before. It scared me, so I denied and hid it. But that was not your fault, it was mine.'  
As he was speaking frankly, showing his soul to her, a tear rolled down her face.  
'I'd never be a normal man you deserve. I can't change, I can't offer you anything, but there's one thing that I could promise. I don't think that I'm capable of a feeling what society call love, but as much as I do, you'll be the one that I'll love.'  
Lisbeth felt her stomach draw a summersault. Once again, she was completely at a loss for words. Now it was his time to wait for her to say something. As she was staring at her, confusion all over her face, Sherlock got fed up, leaped up and started off.  
As the girl fall on his neck, he turned tail and held her in a tight embrace. Suddenly he felt as if something broken was repaired inside him.  
'You have spoken to John, haven't you?' she inquired quietly, her face buried in the coal black curls.  
'Indeed I have' – he confirmed, drunk by the scent of blonde beauty.  
'You are a lucky bastard having him.'  
'He said the same thing about you.'  
'Could you do something for me?'  
'Name it.'  
'Buy coffee with me.'  
The barista couldn't mutter up a single word when next to a familiar girl, his hands on her hips indeed stood the one and only Sherlock Holmes. Smiling from ear to ear, Lisbeth slipped her coffee. Sherlock didn't even ask, but put his coat on her, this time in the romantic way.

After they have arrived in the flat and Sherlock sent a text message to John saying 'Everything's ok. She's back. SH' while Lisbeth replied to the same number as 'Don't worry Hedgehog, everything is fine, you don't need to kill him. He apologised. Yes, he the mighty Sherlock Holmes admitted that he has feeling for me. Thanks for everything. I owe you. xxx LL' They felt awkward. It was the first time they were alone after having admitted that they are in love.  
Are we together now?-Lisbeth wondered. We always have been. We just didn't say out loud. Does it change everything? Does it change anything? Do we continue where it ended? Are we not gonna talk about it? Are we a couple now? Uncle's gonna lock me up, and kill him. And my father?  
'Lisbeth, calm down. You are extremely irritating with your fidgeting. I can hear you screaming in your head.'  
'Are we dating now?' it slipped out of Lisbeth's lips, she even put her hand on her mouth. To her utter astonishment Sherlock didn't seem to be disturbed by the question and looked up from his experiment replying without hesitation.  
'No.'  
'Oh,' the girl's heart sunk and she was extremely confused. She couldn't decide whether she should start yelling, crying, swearing or just saying okay, maybe running away or all of them, but the detective didn't let her time to commit any of them. He rose from his seat and stood in front of the girl.  
'We've been living together for months, getting on each other's nerves, solving cases together and I know you better than you know yourself. This, dear blonde girl, is called a relationship,' Sherlock stated it as a fact, but as sparkling joy filled the girl's face his expression softened. He smiled awkwardly and was about to go back to his experiment, but Lisbeth grabbed his shirt and kissed him passionately. It caught Sherlock by surprise, and he felt electricity running through him as their lips danced heatedly and his hands found their places on the girl's hips. Much to Lisbeth's surprise Sherlock was indeed a great kisser.  
'It told you, you idiot,' she stated and walked away without looking back, leaving there the confused detective with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued with 'This is not a game anymore'


End file.
